


Student Digs

by Lokifan



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Bottom Draco, Consensual Kink, Dom Harry Potter, Fluff and Smut, Light Dom/sub, Light Masochism, M/M, POV First Person, Risk Aware Consensual Kink, Snark, Spanking, Top Harry Potter, snobby Draco
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-02
Updated: 2016-06-02
Packaged: 2018-07-11 21:12:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7070437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lokifan/pseuds/Lokifan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry’s living in *student accommodation*. Just the phrase makes Draco shudder.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Student Digs

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the "Pleasure Yourself" theme at Daily Deviant in May, my bulletproof kinks being spanking and consensual kink between people who know each other really well.

Harry was living in _student accomodation_.

Just the phrase made me shudder. It could have been worse, I suppose: he could have been living in halls, with eleven unwashed strangers living along the corridor. Even the Weasleys stopped before they reached a round dozen.

Since Muggle students might catch sight of him doing magic – or perhaps due to worry over my apoplectic expression – Harry quickly decided he couldn’t possibly live in halls. Instead he, Hermione, Ron and Dean moved into a shared flat in London.

Oh, did I say London? That would be gilding the lily. London could mean Chelsea, it could mean Kensington. It could mean Islington, long-time area of choice for the well-heeled arse-bandit. But no. Harry lived in bloody _Lewisham_ , risking a stabbing every time he popped out for a pint of milk. 

“Harry, you’ve got to have a house-elf. Any house-elf! Have that doddery half-dead one that’s been hiding in the attic since I was four – ”

“What did you do to it?” Harry asked, voice leaden with what I felt was a hurtful amount of accusation.

“Nothing! Well, practically nothing. When you’re four turpentine and magical portraits are a funny combination, all right? I didn’t know the house-elves would have to do restoration. And it wasn’t my fault, anyway, he didn’t have the nervous breakdown until Great-Aunt Druella started screaming that he was copping a feel – ”

Harry held back a smile. I could tell he thought it was funny, though: the corners of his eyes crinkled. The runaway Hogwarts Express of my mouth even paused while I contemplated his eyes: almond-shaped and bright green, and so _intent_ , his attention a blaze you could warm yourself at, so the cold spaces in your soul were filled up with his regard –

“Draco?”

“What?” 

“I’m not getting a house-elf. I want your parents to like me, I can’t go nicking their housekeepers – ”

“Mother adores you!” I protested. It was practically true. “And Father is a lost cause, but that’s all right, Mother rules him with a rod of iron.”

Harry visibly swallowed a dirty joke and said, “Look, Draco, I never learnt much from the Dursleys but one thing growing up in the Home Counties will teach you – steal a good housekeeper and it’s pistols at dawn.”

“You know I don’t like it when you use Muggle analogies,” I muttered, because I could already see where this was going. 

“I am going to do my own cleaning. And Ron and Dean and Hermione will all contribute too. This isn’t going to get grotty – ”

“I’ve seen how Weasley eats.”

“Would you shut up?” Harry said loudly. The susurrus of voices in the sitting room – we could hear them from Harry’s bedroom next door when both doors were closed, the walls were made of bleeding _cardboard_ \-- stopped. I narrowed my eyes.

“Look, Draco,” Harry said, his voice softer as he sought to evade the eavesdroppers. “I want you to feel comfortable here, of course I do. The others have all agreed to be welcoming. But it’s also my fucking flat and if you hate it so much I can go back to hiding under your bed every five minutes when your mum sends up a house-elf with tea.”

“My mother’s attempts to cockblock us are not the issue.”

“She gave me back my Auror-issue handcuffs and asked if I’d been practicing. It’s an issue.”

“I already apologised for leaving them on the bedposts!”

Harry snorted.

“I gave you a really excellent blowjob and let you come on my face. I’d call that an apology.”

“I’d call that a Tuesday.”

I preened.

“And I’m going to choose where to live, with my friends who I actually live with. Not all of us can afford a mansion on the Strand or whatever you think I should buy.”

“You can.”

“I want to live with Ron! And with Hermione, and with Dean. His mum lives round here and she’s being really nice, she sent us that pie that you ate three quarters of the other week.”

“She could send that pie to a borough with working streetlights, couldn’t she?”

“You are such an _unbearable_ snob! You should be ashamed of yourself, Draco!”

“Keep your voice down, your _flatmates_ can all hear you – ”

“It’s not like your awful-snobbishness is a surprise! And don’t say ‘flatmates’ like the word tastes bad.”

“We’re out of Hogwarts, I don’t want to spend half my life trying to get a minute alone any more -- ”

“I have my own room, Draco, don’t exaggerate. I’m sorry, all right, but you’re just going to have to put up with it.”

“Putting up with things is for people lacking the power to fix them! Privilege is all about not having to obey other people’s rules, Harry, and – ”

He gave me a sharp look and I felt myself wither. Not because of Harry’s expression, exactly; but because I’ve spent a lot of time over the last few years putting up with things because I was helpless to change them. Even more time than I’ve spent not fixing things.

I scowled at the horrible cheap carpet, which was the dreadful yellow of that pretend mustard they put on cheap hotdogs. A moment later I felt Harry’s hand curl warmly over the nape of my neck. I didn’t look at him, but I felt some of the tension leave my shoulders.

He left that warm pressure there while he asked if I wanted to stay for dinner. “Hermione’s teaching Ron about stir-fry, which should be entertaining if nothing else.”

I shrugged irritably. “I suppose.” The voices from the living room began to rise again; I could hear the bubbling rush of Granger’s voice when she was explaining something. The claustrophobia of the little flat with its thin walls was itching under my skin. I’d spent my life in expansive rooms with stone walls; Hogwarts was practically made of empty classrooms, and the Manor had been designed with a massive brood of pureblood children in mind. Here every space was jammed with cheap furniture and loud people. “Would you put up a Silencing charm? I don’t want to listen to them.” 

Harry’s black eyebrows twitched together in irritation. “They can hear you as well, you know. And they’re probably not enjoying it any more than you are, but they don’t come moaning to me about you.”

“It’s not like they can hear what I’m saying,” I pointed out. “Just that I’m talking.”

“Believe me, that’s all the evidence they need that you’re whining.”

I glared, and Harry glared back. He stood with his feet planted firmly on the ground like an earthquake wouldn’t knock him down. There was black scruff on his chin and his eyes were intense. I could feel want sparking along my skin, and the hot clench of anger in my chest only seemed to fan the flames.

Hmm. Hectoring Harry about his living situation hadn’t worked, but that didn’t mean I was out of options. One thing I’d never done when faced with an angry Harry Potter was give up.

“I’m not whining,” I said, letting my voice lower and lilt. I let my mouth curve like a cat’s back as it stretches, easy, predatory. “I’m just wondering how we’re going to deal with this problem. If you move out, we can have all the privacy we like.”

“Oh really?” Harry’s glare was much less convincing when it was trained on my mouth.

“If it was just you in your own place, you could still Floo and see your friends all the time. But when I was round, I could walk around naked and no one would know.” I felt myself grin at my own imaginings. “I could have you over the kitchen table. If you were dossing about in the sitting room, you could just push me down and make me suck you and -- ”

“Stop it!” Harry’s voice was low. He was trying to stop the others from overhearing, but combined with that intense glower as he leaned close to me, it was… Energy was sparking through the air between us. 

“What will you do if I don’t?” I leant in close enough to smell him.

Harry jerked backwards and I scowled. He was now thoroughly out of range of my mouth, which hadn’t been the plan at all.

“You’re trying to -- to seduce me into doing what you want!” Harry began to blush as he spluttered out the word _seduce_. “Ron was right all along!”

“Is it working?”

“No! You were just horrible about all my friends and where I’ve chosen to live and you’re not going to get out of it by -- by -- ”

Reasoning that being maximally ridiculous had got me a lot of short-term victories and Harry Potter as my boyfriend, I licked my lower lip at him. Harry went redder than ever. It was very entertaining.

“You’re not even worried about privacy, you screamer, you’re just trying to make me move out. It’s my decision, Draco, and you’re being -- ”

“Are you sure we can’t make a deal? If we do, you can get me to do all sorts of filthy things. And if not, I’m going to move onto the next stage of the plan, which is bothering Weasley into a nervous breakdown.”

Harry crossed his arms and I felt faintly nervous. The look of a Harry Potter Pushed Too Far was familiar, but it was hard to predict -- he might shout at me, or throw me out and not talk to me for a few days, or just give me that glare that made it seem like he could breathe fire. The danger had butterflies dancing in my stomach, it was like going into that long dive and refusing to pull up as you hurtled towards the ground --

My feet left the floor as Harry put his shoulder into my stomach and heaved. I yowled, flailing at his back. My movements overbalanced him and we collapsed sideways onto his bed, squawling and batting at each other. Harry’s laugh almost made me forget the imminent danger of his pathetic single bed collapsing.

“What are you _doing_?”

“You don’t get rewarded for being bad! Naughty behaviour doesn’t get you an orgasm and me meekly doing what you say.” The words came between gasps and gurgles of laughter as we wrestled. I tickled him and he cracked up, but then Harry cruelly misused his Auror training against my innocent self.

I ended up on my stomach with a faceful of duvet and Harry on top of me, which was not the worst possible position to be in, truthfully. “Get off me!”

“Nope. You know what bad boys get?”

“Fucked.”

“Before that.” 

A moment of confusion was interrupted by a sharp swat to my arse. I went rigid.

“Oh.”

“Yes, oh.” He spanked me again, five ruthless and efficient slaps. The sting was muffled by my trousers and boxers, and it barely hurt. It was just enough to send lust surging through me, to make me squirm under Harry’s weight.

Harry laid one possessive hand on the nape of my neck, keeping me down, then climbed off the bed. I was vaguely embarrassed -- a few quick smacks to my arse and I’d folded like Fudge faced with one of Father’s disapproving looks. But the embarrassment was distant, and Harry’s heavy hold on me and the prospect of being bent over by him was immediate.

His other hand squeezed my arse, and he leant down to my ear. “Going to let me have my way?”

“No!”

He chuckled, hot breath tickling my skin. “All right. Going to let me give you what for until you’re very, very sorry?”

“Well, I’m not sorry at all right now. But I’m going to let you try.”

Harry’s hands disappeared. I looked up at this abandonment and found Harry pulling his T-shirt over his head. He almost caught his glasses and I snickered.

“Come on, I want you naked. I want to see your arse turn red when I spank you.” His eyes flashed and my stomach swooped. The delicious little shock of seeing Harry, who blinked behind his glasses and said “er” a lot when faced with Ministry officials, giving me that look that expected instant obedience…

I swallowed, throat tight with nervy excitement, and stripped. I almost tripped when toeing off my socks coincided with Harry’s boxers and jeans slipping down, his flushed, heavy cock bobbing into view. My mouth watered. I could almost feel the head of it nudging at my throat -

Harry sat on his bed and drew me down next to him. Then he pushed me over his lap without a word, no-nonsense. At the back of my mind, I suspected that was because he wasn’t sure what to say, was worried about sounding ridiculous if he gave another order. It didn’t matter; being silently bossed about made my stomach clench from lust.

There was a tiny pause and I could feel Harry’s hand about to fall. I twisted round awkwardly to look at him. “Harry, wait! Silencing charm?”

Harry paused thoughtfully for a moment, then gave me a tiny, wicked grin. “Nope.”

“What?”

“No Silencing charm. You’ve inflicted enough whining and yelling and random noise on my flatmates. This time you can just keep yourself quiet.”

I paused for a moment, breath stolen by shock and lust. Then I flailed upright, protesting. “Harry, no. What if they _hear_?”

“They can go somewhere else if it bothers them. But I don’t reckon it will. They might like knowing I’ve put you in your place.”

“It bothering _them_ wasn’t my concern!”

Harry shrugged. “We don’t have to. But it’s no Silencing charm or no spanking. No sex of any kind.”

I froze, heart pounding, staring. He reddened but stared back, implacable. Harry’s arms slid round me, one hand slipping down to squeeze my arse hard, my body pulled against his. My willpower crumbled like wet cardboard. 

I dropped my eyes as I nodded; embarrassment burnt my cheeks at the mere knowledge that I was agreeing. Harry could feel my cock against him, could surely feel how turned on I was in every inch of me.

“Yeah?” Harry said, his voice wobbling a little with anxious excitement.

“Yeah.” My voice was a little croaky. Not that the excitement burning in the base of my throat had anything to do with the idea that we could be overheard.

I went down again, folding myself over Harry’s lap. It was awkward and he rearranged me until my arse was pressed up in the air, at a good angle for him. I pressed my face into the cheap blue cotton of his duvet, hiding from the feeling of letting Harry Potter spank me. Feeling myself squirm with _wanting it_ while Harry stroked my arse, building my anticipation until I was ready to scream. 

The first hit didn’t hurt, but I was so wound up it pushed a small, breathless sound out of me anyway. Harry paused for a bare second and then kept going. He found a rhythm quickly, smacking alternating cheeks. The sound rang out unmistakably in the small room and I closed my eyes. I bit back any sound. But that just meant I couldn’t focus on anything but having my arse up so Harry could deliver six of the best.

Or whatever number he liked, really.

Lust zig-zagged through me at the feel of Harry’s hard hand against my skin. Punishing me. No individual slap would’ve hurt, but Harry was thorough. I could hear him huffing as he worked; the smacks got harder. The warmth in my arse built to a sting, and I began to squirm a little; I didn’t want it to stop, but I couldn’t help shifting as though it’d help me escape Harry’s relentless hand.

I made a small noise. Harry didn’t hesitate, but then I made another.

He paused, stroking my hot skin. I made a low sound, squirming, because the feel of him soothing where he’d spanked me, his casual touch on my aching arse --

“Are you all right?”

I mumbled something into the duvet.

“Draco?”

I lifted my face from the overheated cloth. “I’m fine!” I hissed, my voice spiky with impatience and embarrassment. “Get to it!”

Harry tweaked my arse in punishment and I had to hold back a small squeal.

“If you want this, you’ve got to do better. Keep quiet. I mean it.”

His voice got harder as he spoke, and so did my cock. Harry pushing me, demanding my best, so certain…

“Fine!” I choked out, and was rewarded with a wallop that rang off the thin walls. The heat of the spanking seemed to move through my whole body until I was half-dizzy from lust. I bit into the duvet, trying to hold back the sounds. It hurt now, an ache that would linger. 

Harry paused and adjusted me against his lap. I let him; at the back of my mind I was startled by my own submissiveness, but then Harry made it worth it. My hips were driven forward with every blow now, in a steady rhythm. It was easy to fall into, and now I could properly rub against Harry, rocking my cock against his thigh with each slap he gave me. 

I was making sounds again, half-muffled moans and small breathless cries. Thank Merlin Harry let me, now; just kept slapping me through them, working on my thighs now, driving me breathless and wild. Let me rut against him while he made my arse bounce with every blow. I could hear Harry’s breathing go ever deeper and hoarser; he was half-moaning under his breath now, low sounds of desire that ramped up my own.

Then there was a shift. Harry stopped delivering a heavy, thorough spanking over my arse and thighs; he seemed to decide to go for unpredictability. If he wanted to pry sounds out of me, it was a good strategy. He pinched my arse, then my thighs, and I barely held back squeals. He delivered little swipes to my inner thighs and I spread them unconsciously, trying to escape. He went back to pinching me, leaving me spread and even more vulnerable. My breathing went unsteady. Then he alternated between squeezing my arse painfully and stroking it, caressing me. I went limp, immediately and embarrassingly vulnerable as he soothed the ache gently. It barely hurt, just smoothing over the burn of the spanking, and yet I was helpless to stop the low groans. I bit the back of my hand, pressing up into his touch, rolling my back and pushing my arse further into his hands. If I couldn’t shout demands, I could make them clear with my body.

He scraped his fingernails across the burning skin of my arse and I yowled like a cat in heat, my back bowing in instinctive lust. I couldn’t control it; the sound ripped through my lips before I knew it was there.

It seemed to break Harry’s control. He drew me up and kissed me. I plunged my hands into his hair, dragging him closer, kissing him with my whole body. We wrestled each other messily down again, half falling off because it was a stupid fucking single bed. I came out on top, kissing Harry breathless, rubbing my cock against his blindly.

Harry’s hands found my arse and squeezed and I broke the kiss with a choked-off cry. I looked down to find Harry watching me. His glasses were gone, and usually that made him look a little vulnerable, left him blinking uncertainly at the world. Now he was like a jungle cat, eyes bright green and hungry. Mouth wet.

Words tumbled back into my head abruptly, and I smiled. “Oh you like that. Making me yell.”

“Yes,” Harry said, apparently too turned-on for witty banter, which is saying something from him. He fumbled at the bedside table. It was flimsy and the plywood drawer constantly got stuck, which is what happens when you spend three galleons on furniture. I scowled, thinking mournfully about my massive four-poster at home; it had enough room for an orgy, or at least a reasonably athletic foursome, and a special secret compartment in the headboard that generations of Malfoys have used to hide their sex gear.

And then Harry was rolling back across the bed to me, and I slid onto his lap. I groaned low in my throat as he rubbed my hole with slick fingers. My head hung down as I spread my legs further, rubbing my cock against Harry’s stomach, helpless against the wave of sensation. 

Before long Harry had two fingers inside me. I kissed up his throat to his stubbled jaw. I sucked and felt his throat vibrate in a groan; I smiled against his skin in victory. And at least this way I could muffle my own sounds.

Harry’s cock jerked against me as I thumbed a nipple; his voice slurred as he muttered to me hoarsely. He was always talkative during sex, and apparently the habit held true. His voice stayed low though, as he told me that I was gorgeous, that he always wanted me even when I was infuriating, that he’d never thought he’d get to spank me and it was fucking amazing. That he loved me.

He didn’t say that much. I said it more easily, half-asleep or when he brought me tea; probably because I didn’t have a horrible traumatic childhood. Even now it was a two-word mutter into my sweaty hair -- “love you” -- but it made my heart clench.

Even so I kissed him into silence. We rocked together, chests heaving as we tried to hold back the noise, sweat dampening our skin.

I didn’t want to come like this, not after that build-up. “Come on, come on,” I muttered, moving off Harry’s lap, grabbing for the slick. He groaned low, eyes falling shut and mouth falling open, as I slicked his cock.

Then I found myself bent over on Harry’s cramped bed, on hands and knees. Harry’s body surrounded me, hot and close. I fought back a groan as he spread my cheeks and pressed inside.

We tried to keep quiet; Harry panted messily into my skin, biting at my shoulder to muffle himself. I couldn’t do anything in my position, I wasn’t going to spare a hand from wanking myself or holding myself upright, so I just mauled my lower lip and tried to control myself while Harry steadily drove me out of my mind. Thank Merlin the mattress was too knackered to even squeak while Harry pounded me. I was shoving back into every thrust, and the slap as Harry’s hips met my spanked arse rang round the room and sent sparks of pain and pleasure blooming white against my eyelids.

I came with a long, stuttered sound, wilting forward. Harry’s thrusts went erratic, but he kept going for another minute or two, grinding himself against me to feel the heat of where he’d punished me. His orgasm was silent; maybe growing up in suburbia left you with more of a talent for it.

Harry cuddled against me. I wriggled, feeling stifled; but there was nowhere to go on his single bed, so I went limp and allowed him to lie all over me. I even stroked his hair a bit.

Our breathing slowed and fell into a steady rhythm; our heartbeats matched, counting out the seconds.

“Oi, Harry!”

I swore under my breath. Bloody Dean Thomas. Harry pinched my side reflexively, then went for my arse. I rolled over, trying to escape, and almost fell off the bed.

“Harry!”

“Yes?” Harry called back, sounding a little harassed. “What is it?”

“Ron and Hermione’re having an argument about how to make good scrambled eggs. Come and referee, you’ve got more experience with that than me.”

Harry sighed. I stole his glasses off the bedside table and scrambled out of bed, holding them out of his reach.

“Draco -- Draco, gimme -- Dean, tell them to use milk!”

“Tell them the best answer is making the house elves do it!” I yelled.

“Non-housemates don’t get a vote!” Dean said through the door. I could hear him laughing though.

Harry caught me in a bear hug, which never would’ve happened if his bedroom was functionally bedroom-sized -- honestly, the cupboard thing had warped his expectations forever -- and then wrestled his glasses out of my hands. He immediately used being able to see properly against me. The kiss was immediately interrupted by our knocking into his stupid Swedish wardrobe, which was not built for the strain. 

I decided to get dressed instead. I could wriggle strategically from time to time, and let Harry think about all the sex he’d be having if he lived alone.

Still, I supposed there were compensations to this sort of thing. Harry would definitely let me steal half his scrambled eggs, and by the rising sounds from the kitchen I might get to see Granger hit Weasley with a saucepan.

And I reckoned I could get a lot of food and acceptance out of the others if I taught them Snape’s secret hangover cure.


End file.
